Reign of Terror, Rain of Tears
by Kalany
Summary: Andrew and friends try to deal with the aftermath ofthe plane crashes into the World Trade Center. Everyone is overwhelmed by the tragedy, perhaps especially the Angels of Death. Oneshot.


This story is dedicated to the survivors of the horrible tragedy of September 11, 2001. It is also dedicated to the families of everyone involved. God bless all of you, and bring you some peace in this trying and frightening time.

* * *

Andrew paused for a moment and took a deep breath. His next assignment had been canceled -- diverted to someone else, he supposed -- and the Father had told him to take a break. 

Suddenly it was all too much. His knees folded from under him and he collapsed on a small pile of wreckage. Andrew looked at his hands, both covered in dust and dirt and glass and blood. A tear splashed onto one of them, creating startling colour against the gray of the dust. He covered his face with them, dust, glass, and all, and began to cry. 

Behind his closed eyelids, the whole tragedy unfolded anew. It all began with getting the urgent call from the Father early that morning, then finding himself on a swerving plane. He could still feel the impact beneath his feet, feel the heat of the fireball... 

Still hear the screams. 

Since then, he just hadn't had time to think, had just been taking people Home, one after another. No time to think, no time to react, just work. 

He had still been in the rubble on the top floors when he felt the floor shake, and saw the ceiling falling towards him. Being an angel, he had found himself standing on the ground unharmed, but still... looking at where the building had stood, knowing how many people hadn't made it out... His tears began to come faster. 

He felt weight settle next to him on his debris pile, and an arm curled itself around his shoulders. 

"Andrew?" Monica's Irish lilt was impossible to mistake. 

Andrew didn't say a word- just fell into her arms weeping. "Why? Why?" He cried once the first spate of tears had passed. "Why?" 

"I don't know, Angel Boy." Tess's voice sounded in Andrew's ear, just before she joined the hug. " 

"I just can't comprehend it." Monica's voice was quiet and sad. "Oh, Andrew..." He could feel her tears running through his hair. 

They cried together for a few minutes, then Andrew slowly raised his head. "What are you doing here?" His voice sounded dull to his ears. 

"Th' entire Host of Heaven has been called out." Monica said sadly. "Those of us who can are helping in your department. Those who can't are with the families and the survivors." She paused. "Oh, Andrew, I never knew before..." A tear dripped off the end of her nose. 

"Then you understand. You understand." Andrew replied, tears coming anew. It was so hard to bear the haunted look on Monica's face, but so good to know his friends understood his pain. "I'm so sorry, I never wanted you to know, but now you do... thank you..." 

"We both do now, Baby." Tess held him closer and he cried into her shirt. "God knows none of us wanted it this way, but we're here for you, Andrew." 

Monica nodded. "We'll get through this, Andrew. Together." 

"God will help us," Tess added. "Believe in that." 

Andrew nodded, and felt as if some of the weight had fallen off his shoulders. "Thank you." He said softly. 

The three began to glow, and glanced at each other. Monica heaved a small sigh. "Back to work." She said, and disappeared. 

Tess gave Andrew one last hug, then stood up and disappeared as well. 

Andrew stood for a moment, looking at the wreckage, at the terrible senseless wreckage. "God help us." He said quietly. "God help us all."

* * *

I originally wrote this story for the tbaa-fanfic mailing list, on Sept. 11th. I recently re-discovered it, and liked it enough to post here. I hope you enjoy. The original epilogue follows:

* * *

I wrote this story while sitting at the table watching the news of the horrible tragedy. I have no loved ones in New York, thank God, but some of my friends do, and it's been painful to watch. 

I don't know if this entire thing has completely sunk in yet. I keep expecting to feel it hit me, but it just keeps going. 

I got the idea for the title from our local Boston newspaper, who ran a 3-inch headline: "REIGN OF TERROR". 

I thought about the tragedy, and I just couldn't comprehend how many people there must have been in the buildings. I knew that if there were such things as Angels of Death, they must be tremendously overworked, and trying to deal with shock at the same time, and asking the same questions we are. ("How many people died, Father? HOW many? .... Why? Why?") 

I decided it would be cathartic for me to write a story about it -- and good to de-lurk at the same time. 

Anyway, I hope you liked it. It's rather short -- just the one part. 

Maybe I'll write an expanded version when we have more facts. 

God bless all of you, and comfort any of you who were personally affected by this tragedy. God be with us all. 

Teresa 


End file.
